


The Case Of The Missing Museum Bea-storer

by IronMum



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: An abundance of Sherlock references, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Stephen Strange Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Strangulation, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, metropolitan museum of art, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronMum/pseuds/IronMum
Summary: After being tracked down by a member of the public in search of a missing loved one, our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man dips his toe into the world of a notorious gang of art thieves.Could world's only consulting detective be added to Peter Parker's superhero resume?Event prompts used: Double Vision, Dark, Tachycardia, Hoarse, Numb, Eyes Open, Trap Door, Plummet, Cracked
Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25
Collections: 2021 Irondad Sprint Event





	The Case Of The Missing Museum Bea-storer

Irondad Whump Sprint Thing

Prompts used: Double Vision, Dark, Tachycardia, Hoarse, Numb, Eyes Open, Trap Door, Plummet, Cracked

“Run it by me once more, Spiderling,” Tony murmured from his perched position over his workshop desk. He was so incredibly close to making a breakthrough with his latest suit that perhaps he hadn't quite caught every word flying out of his mentees mouth.

“Mr. Stark… I’ve been talking for like at least an hour. You want me to run it _all_ by you again?” Peter questioned, a hint of embarrassment and disappointment at the prospect his mentor hadn’t caught a single word.

Placing the tools down and grabbing a rag, Tony began to wipe the dirt from his hands and turned to face the young hero. The kid’s eyebrows were wrinkled and a slight frown marred his face as he made brief eye contact before returning to the school book. There’s a heavy sigh from the older man as he threw the dirtied cloth on his desk and closed the distance between them.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tony started, a hand washing over his tired face. He had barely had a moment to pause all day, maybe even all week except for the shoddy greeting he’d given the boy when he’d entered the lab. Now that the older man had stopped, _really stopped_ , he was sure he was seconds from keeling over and catnapping there and then. And Peter absolutely deserved more from him than that. Tony was about to continue talking, desperately wanting to ignore the internal monologue of his AI berating him for the lack of self care, when he’s beaten to it.

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I know you’re really busy,” Peter muttered dejectedly, the pen in his hand shifting from gentle taps onto his homework to rapid fire, anxiety-riddled drumming. There was an awkward hand on his shoulder, gripping a couple times in an attempt to comfort. Practically hearing the thoughts racing through his mentor’s head, he looked up and offered a tight lipped smile in an effort to reassure. 

“It’s not okay, kiddo. How about I make it up to you this weekend? I’m thinking, movie marathon. Pizza. You name it,” Tony offered as he lowered his body so he was face-to-face with Peter’s. He’d recognise that fake smile from a mile away. A real Parker smile was all teeth on show with dimples and light wrinkles etched at the corner of his eyes. The kid’s upset and his attempted bravado was, at best, horseshit. 

Peter also knew his facade was rumbled and to be honest, it always was. Tony had that eerie knowing look in his eyes. A knack for sniffing out emotional turmoil no matter how far the distance when it came to Peter. In fact, he could probably do it with a sack over his head. _Was Peter that predictable and obvious? Or was his mentor just incredibly intune with him?_ _Like a parent is with their child._

“That sounds awesome, Mr. Stark,” Peter said as he shelved that line of thought immediately and gently nodded, a slightly more genuine smile now tugging at his lips. 

Satisfied the mood was somewhat alleviated, Tony stood back up and lightly clapped the kid on the back twice before stretching out his aching limbs. His hands made their way into his pockets when he noticed the way they shook from sleep deprivation. A quick glance at the clock offered a feeling of relief that he would absolute regret. 

“You better get your stuff ready, buddy. Don’t want to keep Happy waiting,” he remarked as forcibly casual as possible. Peter’s gaze also found the clock across the room and he swiftly started to pack his belongings. The boy annoyed the bodyguard and personal chauffeur enough without needing to add bad time-keeping to the mix. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, Peter hastily made his way out of the workshop. His mentor lagged behind but no doubt intended to show him to the door. 

Despite amendments being planned out, the elevator ride up was deathly silent and tense. The blinding headache Tony had was pleased with the silent bliss but his heartstrings painfully tugged. If they were real he was sure they would be frayed to the point of snapping. Tony would steal glances at the teen only to be met with the same defensive posture, hands clasped in front of him tightly and eyes focused on the line where the doors would inevitably open any second now.

With a ping, the pair escaped the dense air of the small lift and Peter let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. Happy could be seen just outside the front doors, arms crossed against his chest and held tilted ever so slight up. He offered the duo a nod when he saw them as they reached the entrance of the tower. Tony had gone to ruffle Peter’s hair, missing when the teen made a sudden dash for the car. Whilst Happy most certainly saw the action and the subsequent frown on Tony’s face, Peter was oblivious. When he’d called out his goodbye and got in the car his mentor had masked the missed contact by simply rubbing his own neck. The teen raised a hand as the car started up, the older man managing half a smirk in return before heading back up to the penthouse.

Despite how desperately tired he was, Tony lay awake long enough for the predicted amount of time Happy would take to drop off Peter. He was splayed out across a sofa, an arm dangling off lazily as he squeezed the life out of his stress ball. He barely waited more than a few seconds after Peter’s drop off when he requested F.R.I.D.A.Y. call Happy.

“You good, Tony?” Happy asked after barely one ring. 

“Yeah, yeah. Err. Could you grab me a shawarma once you’ve finished dropping off Peter?” It was a bullshit excuse that his friend would see right through but worth a shot nevertheless.

“Tony. _Your_ kid is alright," Happy assured the smile on his face evident in his voice. The only thing the older man needed was rest. “He got out of the car and shot up those apartment stairs to his Aunt’s about five seconds ago.”

“Hmm. Five seconds ago? You’re losing your edge. Was there traffic?” Tony attempted to deflect as he rolled over onto his side in an effort to get comfortable.

“Get some sleep, boss," was the last thing Happy managed to say before he heard soft snoring on the other end of the line.

It had been an exceptionally good day for the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man. Not only had he saved three cats from trees and stopped someone from short changing a hot dog vendor, but he’d also prevented three muggings. Six people had asked for his photo, two of them wanting a black flip and one of them wanting a one handed handstand.

As his patrol approached its final hour, he found himself perched on the edge of a diner rooftop, legs kicking out as he hummed the tune to _Thousand Miles_ by Vanessa Cartlon. He tucked into a sandwich he’d purchased from Delmar’s Deli and Grill. As always it was nice and flat, ensuring it was easy to store and lordy did it taste as good as always. 

The young hero had spotted someone walking in his direction, deciding to keep them in his peripheral as their eyes continued to dart up towards him.

“Spider-Man,” they called up sounding panicked. Peter studied them briefly not seeing any injuries before looking around the area and finding no immediate danger visible. Crumpling up the baguette wrapper he hopped down with ease, throwing his rubbish in a bin.

“Can I help you, madam?” He queried, voice incredibly soft when he noticed her red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. She sniffed into a handkerchief before suddenly propelling herself forward Arms wrapped around Peter, gripping tightly, as if he was going to abandon her like so many others had.

Had it not been for his enhanced strength, the young hero was sure she would’ve bruised him. After a moment of stunned disbelief, he swallowed thickly before placing a single arm around her and empathetically patted a couple of times.

“My girlfriend,” she whispered frantically. “My girlfriend is missing.” 

As her breaths steadied she loosened her hold and took a single step back. With her anguish very much contorting into her features, she started to rummage through her handbag. Peter found himself placing a single hand on her shoulder and squeezed, a touch he knew was always comforting from his Aunt and mentor. 

With just a small amount of coaxing, the young hero had managed to direct them to a nearby house with large porch steps. Peter had reassured her they were fine to take a seat, knowing the owner of the 177A Bleecker Street wouldn’t mind. In fact, there was a chance they'd even get refreshments after it had become a regular spot for the young hero to listen and talk to those in need.

“What’s your name, miss?” Peter questioned tentatively. 

“Tali," the brunette mumbled meekly as she fiddled with the A4 piece of paper now in her hands, placing a photo of the pair holding hands on the top of the pile. “You’re my last hope, Spider-Man. Please help me find her.”

“I’ll do my best, Tali. Could you tell me a bit about her?”

“Her name is Bea. She’s a museum conservator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the Department or Arms and Armor. I received a call from her work a week ago to say she hadn’t shown up and I instantly knew something was wrong. She would often joke we couldn’t get married because she was already married to her job.” Tali paused, a ghost of a light chuckle escaping her lips at the memory. “She is affable, honest and just a beautiful person in and out. There’s not a bad bone in her body. With a lack of any enemies and Bea not being deemed within the missing persons ‘special categories,’ the police have come up blank. Like she’s just vanished into thin air. It seems like they've just dropped it and I've been trying to look myself but I just… need some help.”

“She sounds amazing. I’ll do everything I can. You have my word, Tali," Peter vowed as he outstretched a hand to take the small stack of scribbled notes and photograph. Tali pulled out a notepad, jotting down her own address before providing it to the young hero. 

“Thank you, Spider-Man. She wouldn’t just disappear. She wouldn’t leave her work. She wouldn’t… leave us," the young lady proclaimed, body shuddering as she tried to stop her emotions from overwhelming her again. “I cannot bear the thought of losing her forever. It would be so… It would be too…”

“Excruciatingly lonely," Peter thought out loud, startling himself slightly when he’d realised he’d said it out loud. “I’m so sorry. Sorry. That was really inapprop-.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tali interrupted with a sad, knowing smile. 

As if on cue to the accidental slip of the tongue, the door to the Sanctum Sanctorum opened revealing Stephen Strange holding a tray with two hot drinks. It had obviously been a quiet evening for the doctor as he was wearing a very normal looking grey cardigan with dark jeans rather than his usual steel blue tunic and trusty Cloak of Levitation. He offered the pair a benevolent smile as they took a cup each before quietly dismissing himself, knowing if the teen had wanted help he would have asked. Peter tugged the bottom of his mask up and took a sip, snorting at the fact it was a warm milk rather than tea. 

At the very least, the all knowing Sorcerer Supreme would likely relay the message onto Tony that he was helping someone, who could then relay it onto May if needed. Worst case scenario, he’d pull the puppy dog eyes on pretty much any of them. 

Peter and Tali continued to talk for the next thirty minutes as they drank their drinks. For the sake of keeping the sheets of paper together, he’d left the notes with Dr. Strange before escorting the young lady home. It had barely been a minute after she’d entered her apartment building when he received three notifications. May and Tony wanted to be notified of when he was on his way home and one from Stephen to let him know he’d find the documents on his bedside table so there was no need to double back. 

Moments later he was swinging into the bedroom window, barely getting out of his suit before flopping onto the bed ungracefully. Peter had had every intention of looking through the information earlier but exhaustion hit him hard. His mind loosely began constructing a plan of action before the struggle to keep his eyes open lapsed and he succumbed to sleep.

“Ned, I need a favour," Peter practically begged as he sat next to his friend in the school cafeteria in a rush, the chair screeching slightly as he sat down. The room was bustling and as always, other students had sat significantly far away from the duo. 

“Is this like… Guy in the chair hacking a Stark Suit kind of favour or like, needing to copy my homework kind of favour?” Ned quizzed dubiously, not that there was much he would ever actually say no to when it came to his best friend. He pouted when Peter’s features morphed into a mixture of a grimace and smile.

“I need you to hack into the NYPD database and look at a case for me," he asked as hushed and as innocently as he possibly could.

“Dude!” Ned exclaimed loudly, quick to quieten himself when Peter’s eyes widened in shock at the outburst and he shook a hand in front of him.

“I’m on a case,” Peter went to explain before being instantly cut off.

“A _case_? What are you? Like a detective or something? Spider-Man Holmes, world’s only spider bitten superhero and part-time consulting detective?” Ned questioned, already seeing how he could also fall into the role of badass sidekick for the latter.

“No. Ned, please. Someone came to me directly for help. It’s a missing persons case and apparently it went cold pretty quickly with the police. I just want to see what they actually found out, that’s all.”

“Alright, alright," Ned conceded. “You wanna head to the library as we’ve got a free period?”

“Have I ever mentioned you’re the best?” Peter rhetorically questioned as they packed up their belongings and made a hasty exit out of the room and into the doorway. Once they’d secured a study room within the library, Ned set to work. Peter was hovering over his shoulder, foot tapping with nerves.

“We. We won’t get caught, right?” He clarified, knowing full well Ned was capable but unable to stop the jitters sitting at the pit of his stomach like rocks.

“Nah, I’ve got them running through hoops on my VPNs bouncing all round the place," his friend replied casually. It hadn’t taken the genius tech long to bypass the firewall after exploiting a vulnerability within one of their systems. _Backdoor access into the server, checkmate. Ned: 1. NYPD: 0._

“Okay. Beatrice Wallis," he read out loud as his best friend honed in on the screen.

“What’s that?” Peter pointed at the bottom of the screen. “Operation Artificium.”

“Woahh…” Ned whispered, mouth open at the masses of information that flooded through once he’d clicked the folder. There were mugshots of wanted individuals, criminal records that went on for days. Links to art heists, the black market, murders.

“Well, this just got a whole lot bigger,” Peter stated under his breath. 

“This is insane, Peter," Ned confirmed as he scrolled down further, the pair fully engrossed. 

“So, the police have somehow tied Bea’s disappearance to this criminal gang. But for whatever reason they’ve chosen not to inform her only living relation…. Why?”

“Maybe she’s part of the gang?” Ned threw out. “She works in a museum... These guys enjoy a little art thievery.”

“That doesn’t seem like her. Not from what her girlfriend told me," Peter countered as his mind raced, brows knitted together as his eyes rapidly scanned 

“You better be careful with all this stuff, Peter. This seems like _seriously_ serious stuff. Have you told Mr. Stark about it?”

“I mean. I’ve actually heard some rumours about this gang on the streets. I tried discussing it with him at the beginning of the week. But… He. Err. He didn’t have much to say on the matter. I’ve not been able to tell him about Bea yet. But I am going to his for the weekend so I'll be seeing him this evening.”

“So badass that you go to a literal Avenger’s house on weekends. Tony’s practically got part-time custody of you,” Ned joked, earning him a swift nudge from Peter. 

“Ned. Please. It’s totally not like that," Peter defended, not that the accusation necessarily had any negative connotations. 

“Sure, sure," Ned responded with a smug smile. “Remind me how many others have had Tony Stark spend millions of his billions on personal super suits…” 

Peter had opened his mouth to instantly reply with almost all the Avengers when his friend continued and his lips slammed shut again.

“ _With_ every type of safety aspect known to man.”

“I mean the Quinjets have individual passwords for each Avenger,” Peter muttered, grasping at straws.

“Point made.” 

“Alright, alright. The Avengers in general are… a kind of. Sort of… Slightly unique family unit. And I am apart of th-”

“You’re the chaotic baby Avenger,” Ned supplied, his smile increasing in size. “I wonder what that makes me. Oh man, have you ever considered an Avengers themed sitcom?”

“It would totally be like Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” Peter indulged. “Fury has Holt vibes.”

“Okay. Here me out though. What if you were like a merge of a bunch of documentaries? The possibilities are freaking endless. Clint is totally Jim from The Office. And imagine Stephen as Doctor Cox in Scrubs. Tony as Mandalorian. And oh my God. Peter, you could be Grogu.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s the coolest thing I’ve been called, or the uncoolest.”

“Totally the coolest. Yeah, you look like a wrinkly frog. But hello. Jedi powers? And adopted by a badass dad.”

“Right, right. That’s enough of that. Let’s wrap this up. We can continue our documentary plans once I’ve solved this case. I need to make some notes before the period is up and we gotta go to Spanish.”

“You’ve totally got this,” Ned encouraged, as the pair jointly made notes and fleshed out theories and plans on how to proceed next before their next class.

Peter had arrived at Stark Tower much later than anticipated. The extra hours of piecing together the case he had now dubbed 'The Missing Museum Bea-storer' had taken a toll on him physically and mentally. When he’d arrived, he headed straight for his room to shower and get changed knowing the AI would let his mentor know he’d arrived. Once refreshed, he’d entered the living area with all the intentions of grabbing a quick soda and then heading for the elevator to go descend to the workshop. Instead he’d found himself slightly lounging on the sofa, an arm swinging off the edge and the other placed over his drifting eyes. 

"I know you’re awake, Mr.. Parker. F.R.I.D.A.Y. would’ve already scolded me for making so much as a step too loudly if you weren’t. Shift your legs so your old man can sit down.” 

Peter was unsure why he hadn’t heard his mentor enter the room, perhaps he had actually half dozed off. Obliging with the request he started to pull his knees up. Tony lightly took hold of the teen’s ankles and brought them back so they were now resting on his lap. Peter dared a peek from under his arm, noting the room was now dimly lit. 

"If you want to go ahead and rest now, you can," Tony offered. "I’ll be right here."

Whilst Peter had acted pseudo offended at the remark, he knew damn well he may as well have been wearing a t-shirt that said _‘Please don't leave me alone right now,’_ on.

"Thank you, Mr.. Stark," he murmured as his mind considered the prospect of falling asleep there and then. 

"I know I’ve been a shoddy mentor recently, kiddo. But I can see you look shattered from a mile off. There are certain things you are supposed to do much better than me. Like self care, which I’ve set a pretty low bar for so... Talk to me," Tony finished the statement by placing a hand on Peter’s ankle and gave it a tender squeeze. 

The teen let out a loaded sigh in response, pressing his arm into his aching eyes more before removing it and looking up to the ceiling. _That’ll be a no to sleeping then._

“I’ve been working this case,” he started, Tony instantly quirking a brow at the terminology but choosing not to interrupt. “Missing museum conservator. The police have told the victim’s girlfriend that it’s a dead end and she’s likely just run off. Here's the thing. Not only does that seem completely out of character but within the NYPD database they’ve linked it to some big operation. We’re talking art thieves, black market selling… murders.”

“Dare I ask, how have you managed to get tangled up in this?” Tony probed when the teen took a moment to pause.

“I mean. I’ve heard things on the streets, generally. But the missing person, Bea. Her girlfriend, Tali, actually tracked me down. She handed me all these notes that I’ve got in my backpack. And I promise I’ve been keeping up with patrols and school work. But I also gave her my word that I’d try and find Bea. I’m just… Trying to figure it all out and piece it together and… And I just can’t let her down Mr. Stark. I just can't.”

“How about you let me help you then, kiddo? You know you don’t have to do this gig on your own.” 

Peter propped himself up on his elbows, still often finding it surprising when his mentor took an interest in something he was doing or offered his assistance. He knew it often resulted in an offended look from the older man but it was just something he was still wrapping his head round and accepting. Of all the bad Parker luck and dark, gloomy days he had suffered, Tony had been one of those rays of hope and light along with May, Ned and MJ.

“That would actually be really great, Mr. Stark. I was a little paranoid about Ned hacking the NYPD database so if you were able to do it in a slightly more legal way and -” He stopped when he spotted the absolute incredulous look on his mentor’s face, features stern yet completely taken by surprise. The face of a parent processing their child being a bit of a little shit.

“Yeah, let’s not get the best friend arrested in this endeavour. Call off Samwise Gamgee like stat. What’s next on the agenda, Sherlock? Little trip to the museum tomorrow maybe?”

“That would be amazing, Mr. Stark. Thank you so much.”

“Boss. The pizza is here," F.R.I.D.A.Y chimed much to the pair's delight. 

“Grab yourself a drink, kid. I’ll grab the pizza," Tony said as he tapped the kid’s ankle in a ‘shift your legs’ motion. The teen was quickly up on his feet and skidding into the kitchen area whilst his mentor made his way to the elevator.

“You know, I think Miss Potts might be trying to tell you something Mr.. Stark,” Peter stated as he attempted to suppress a chuckle at the note plastered on the fridge door.

_THIS IS A FOOD ONLY fridge! No robots, arc reactors, overheating technology or scientific experiments of any kind. P.S. FOOD ONLY!_

“Semantics,” Tony shrugged off. “Some might say that the art of cooking is a scientific experiment and therefore almost anything could be included within that. And she quickly disliked it when I started removing her homemade recipes from the fridge and sticking labels on them to say as such. Why can her raspberry pies go in the fridge but my mini-bot-e powered by a raspberry pi not?”

Peter wasn’t able to reply as the older man disappeared into the lift only to return within sixty seconds, three pizza boxes in hand. 

In that time he'd sunk back into the sofa shaking his head jokingly and stifling a laugh. The moment the pizza was placed on the coffee table, their stomachs growled. With food and drinks within reach, the rest of the evening was spent watching crime and police TV shows until they’d passed out.

Sore necks rolled out and aching limbs stretched, Tony and Peter had eaten leftover pizza for breakfast before heading out to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The magnificent architecture of the building had stunned them, even if Tony had immediately started picking out areas he’d improve from a technological perspective. To assist in their investigation the pair were wearing matching Dita Flight glasses with their own personal AIs and HUD built in. 

“Welcome to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Will it be just the two of you today?” A kind employee asked, a bright, all teeth on show smile spread across her face.

“Yes, madam,” Tony replied curtly as he grabbed his wallet from his pocket. 

“Parents go free when bringing their child today. So that’ll just be $25," she chirped happily and apparently completely oblivious.

The pair froze, Peter’s mouth opening to correct her but then finding the words stuck at the tip of his tongue. Tony looked like he’d practically gone rigid before he cleared his throat loudly and made the payment.

"How come you didn't correct her?" Peter uttered, nudging Tony's arm as they briskly made their way down the Great Hall and through the European Sculpture and Arts room.

"Why would I?” Tony questioned, noting Peter's cheeks reddening so quickly, he was sure they'd be hot to touch.

"Well. Erm…" Peter hesitated, stopping in his tracks as his mentor continued on. When it was obvious he’d come to a halt, Tony turned his head just enough to reveal a shit eating grin that could easily put Peter’s own to shame. Deciding not to even try and work out a response to the comment, the teen made a dash to catch up as they made their way into the Department of Arms and Armor. 

“To our left Spiderling,” Tony directed as they headed towards a display that was currently closed off. “Hmm.”

“Wonder what happened here,” Peter thought out loud. The sign on the empty display glass incredibly vague. 

“You got those nano-cams we can stick around this place, right?” Tony said in a hushed tone. Peter tapped his pocket in agreement. “Let’s split up, you take gallery 373 - 376 and I’ll take gallery 389.”

The pair found themselves completing the task fairly easy, Peter totally feeling like a spy. Tony drew a small amount of attention to himself which actually ended up working in his favour. An over enthusiastic worker had been quite happy to spill the beans on what had happened to the damaged works, as well as give him a behind the scenes tour of where the staff of the department would work. He’d managed to grab Peter’s attention whilst doing so, so the teen could join him. 

When they’d questioned when the last time one of the pieces was worked on, they were informed it had been over a week ago due to a staff shortage. However, the AI’s in both their glasses determined there had been repairs completed within the last forty-eight hours. 

“Here’s the deal,” Tony started as he took a mouthful of burger now the pair were back in the car and on their way back to the tower. “I think we should get some reconnaissance drones in place and just monitor, monitor, monitor. Someone’s clearly going back in there and top bets would be on our missing person.”

“Sounds like you’d make the better Sherlock, Mr. Stark,” Peter joked. “But yeah that sounds like a plan.”

“I wouldn’t make a good Holmes at all. The way his mind works is a little on the weird side.”

“I dunno. _Eccentric_ has been one of the many overused descriptions I have seen of you. And eccentric is just a synonym of weird. I think you’d make a great genius detective.”

“How about we stick with _that_ kind of descriptor. _Genius._ That is one I, myself, will happily use.”

“Eccentricity is associated with genius… So…”

“You absolutely wound me, Underoos.”

“I could never wound you, let’s be honest," Peter admitted changing the conversation direction from banter to sincere.

“Say, how about we take the rest of the weekend off. I can have F.R.I.D.A.Y. scanning the NYPD files. She can also let us know if anything exciting happens over at the museum. We can chillax in the workshop or have a movie marathon. Maybe even continue watching _that detective show_ we started last night.”

It only took a couple of chews on his lip before Peter conceded to the idea. With an AI doing a lot of the legwork he would get a decent chance to recover and just hanging out with his mentor did sound pretty dandy after the week they’d had.

It had taken four painstakingly long days before Peter had received the alert he had been waiting for. In that time he’d been keeping Ned up to date with the progress as well as receiving information from Tony when he’d occasionally had F.R.I.D.A.Y. hack into the NYPD.

“Peter, I’m picking up a signal from Bot: Lestrade within the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Activity has been detected," Karen notified the young hero swung throughout the city. 

"Set the quickest course to get there and pull up any security cameras we can get into, please."

The young hero arrived in record time, finding an emergency exit open and having Karen navigate him to the room where he was receiving a live feed of someone working in the shadows of the Department’s studio.

“Hi there,” Peter greeted once he was level with the back of Bea’s head. She jumped in fear, audibly gasping as she turned to face him, almost dropping what she had been working on. Peter released his grip of the web, flipping to land on the ground and caught the delicate artifact with grace before gently handing it to her.

“I had to finish this work. It’s only a matter of time before they found me. And then…”

“I will keep you safe. I’ve heard about them, seen the reports.”

Bea let out a scoff, partially in defeat and dismissal. She undid the laces of trainers and pulled them off, along with the laces to reveal a tattoo on her foot.

“You’re… You’re one of them?” Peter asked in disbelief, lenses widening in horror.

“I was thirteen. No friends. No family. No livelihood... no way of surviving. And then I met _them._ I could remain on the dangerous streets and slowly waste away, or I could work for them. Within a couple of years I was one of their best. I could fit in vents and small spaces during our raids. I’ve been involved in some of the biggest art crimes of the century. I eventually managed to leave that life behind me, moved to multiple states until I arrived here. The museum gave me a job. I met Tali. Everything was good. Amazing. A brand new start.”

“And they’ve come looking for you…”

“I’d hoped after five years they’d forgotten me. But they never really let you leave. A small community like ours, they are never far…”

"How did they find you?"

“Someone I had grown close to in the group tracked me down. Said they wanted my help in stealing from one of the new exhibits we have. I told them, no. But they don’t take no as an answer. I was lucky they left me alive after that rejection. So I fled. More to keep Tali safe than myself.” A flickering of the lights had them both on alert. And then Peter felt the familiar spine tingling of his Spider Sense. At that exact moment, Karen alerted him that the surveillance bots were picking up three armed assailants heading their way. He requested the AI bring up the footage on his HUD, noting they were dressed to the balls in what looked like SWAT team getup including tactical helmets with built- in face shields. Two had hefty looking rifles with torches attached and the third seemed unarmed, all moving perfectly in sync. _Three vs one. Great._

Grabbing Bea by the arm, Peter started to stealthily usher them towards an exit, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his senses went into overdrive. His enhanced hearing could pick up the speed they were moving, one seemingly unnaturally quick. In a quiet murmur the teen requested Karen contact his mentor and provide him with the relevant details.

“They’ve come for me,” Bea whispered, a tremor evident in her voice as she held herself close to the teen. 

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Peter reassured. “I am going to distract those guys and I want you to run to the nearest exit. When you’re out there head to the front of the museum as it’s currently clear. Ton- Iron Man will meet you out there. I need you to say these exact words to him. _Help me, Tony Stark. You’re my only hope._ Go with him, he can take you to a safe place.”

The young conservator nodded in acknowledgement, gulping audibly as heavy boots thudded closer and closer. 

“I’ll have their complete attention in five, four, three, two, one.” Peter immediately sprung from the position and landed in front of the attackers, hands on his hips and puffing his chest out ever so slightly. “You guys on the _knight_ shift team, huh? Didn’t think there was a need for three of you.” 

The two who were armed immediately raised their guns, barrels dead-centred on the young hero. The third disappeared into the shadows, though his rapidly beating heart rate gave his position away to Peter. The click of a gun from the one on his left had him spinning on his foot before arching backwards lithely to dodge several incoming bullets. One shot of web and the gun was completely jammed. With a grunt, _Jammy_ , as Peter had internally nicknamed him, tossed the gun aside and charged. The young hero easily dodged a punch swung his way then jumped up to avoid a kick towards his shins. Using just a touch of his enhanced strength, Peter elbowed Jammy in the face. The protective gear shattered on impact, inducing a pained scream. The henchman stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and landed roughly on the tiled floor. With a quick thwip, Peter had secured his legs to the ground with webbing before his neck was burning ferociously again. 

Bullets peppered the room, following him as he dashed across the room and skidded to a halt behind a display.

“Careful! Some of these artifacts are over a thousand years old. Have some respect!” Peter chastised. After a couple of seconds the room fell into silence, the teen surprised that they’d actually listened. “Thank you!”

A fourth and fifth set of footsteps started to echo through museum halls, Peter audibly groaning before peeking from his position and noting a dark silhouette attempting to flank him from the right. _Likely the one who’d stood back and hid in the shadows._ He knew he had mere seconds to come up with a plan before there would be four versus one.

Working in the young hero’s favour, the three gunmen huddled into one another and attempted to storm in his direction together. Peter slowly crept up the wall he’d been near before firing a splitter web at the trio and yanking their guns away. The action caused all of them to almost lose their balance. 

“These guns seem a little modern to be brought into the museum dontchya think?” Peter quipped as the guns scattered across the room before being secured with a web grenade. Karen scanned the three of them, facial recognition being brought up for all three. Paul Miller, Edward Davis and Ryan Jones. All wanted by the police, all with never ending rap sheets and all with links to the case within the NYPD’s Operation Artificium files.

Paul and Edward pulled out knives from their pockets, and Ryan unsheathed a long baton that glowed with electricity. The teen’s senses had him dodging an aerial object that was thrown with so much force it cracked the wall where he had been perched. 

“Scan the room for Sneaky McSneak, please," Peter requested, as he swiftly shot a web at Paul and yanked the knife from his hand. The blade escaped his grasp and embedded in a nearby mannequin as Ryan immediately went on the attack, swinging the baton dangerously close to Peter’s face as he flipped back in an effort to create some space between them. The henchman had managed to keep up and a lucky strike of the weapon connected with Peter’s arm, electricity shooting through his body causing the muscles to go rigid. 

All three chose this point to pounce. Unfortunately for them Peter quickly managed to recover. The teen hopped into the air, double jump front kicking Edward and Paul before webbing them both to the ground. Ryan attempted another hit, only to be met with a fist to the Kevlar vest. The force sent him smashing through a display case causing Peter to wince. 

“I have located Sneaky McSneak, Peter,” the AI advised as a figure was revealed beside a glass cabinet display looking as if they were stalking towards him on all fours. Before they could move any further, Peter used all his strength to hop onto the ceiling. The eyes of the assailant following him. 

“You’ve been meddling in dealings you really shouldn’t,” they called up realising the game was up and barely acknowledging their groaning team mates. 

“Never heard those words uttered before," Peter feigned offense dramatically.

“This is adult business. Keep out of it.” The threat was delivered menacingly, the words of the last sentence enunciated.

“No can do my dude," Peter shrugged off. If he’d had a dollar for every time he was told to keep out of someone’s business he was sure he’d be a millionaire.

“I am not _your dude_.”

“Alright then. Sorry my bad. So, what’s your deal? You a spider too with all that creeping and crawling around. You wanna come up here and fight like a spider?” To Peter’s absolute fascination and horror, the thug cracked his neck and started to scale the wall before the pair were at a standoff on the ceiling. “Well that’s new," he observed, hoping the false confidence in his voice wasn’t obvious. 

The rip-off-Spidey, as Peter had quickly dubbed him, started to charge, aiming a clothesline punch right for the teen’s neck. The young hero’s arm whipped out to catch the offending limb, desperately clawing onto the wrist to stop it from connecting with such ferocity. Rip-off-Spidey mustered all his power to keep pressing forward, clearly having enhanced strength as well as wall crawling abilities. 

Not willing to back down, the thug continued pushing, driving Peter backwards until he was pinned against a wall. Under the pressure, the teen involuntarily let out a grunt at how much he was having to exert. When the other man simply started to cackle, Peter used as much energy as possible to give himself some space before activating his taser webs and firing. Although it temporarily stopped the attacker for just a few moments, it didn’t seem to be having much of a physical impact. Peter fired another web this time catching the assailant in the face and enabling him to get into a defensive crouch.

“Peter, I’ve received an alert from Mr. Stark. He has successfully located Bea and is taking her back to the Tower," Karen announced and Peter could almost laugh in victory if he wasn’t still tangled up in the fight. 

Rip-off-Spidey tore off the intruding web from his face with a hideously unbecoming snarl, quickly turning to face the teen. The pair circled one another in sync, like a predator would to its prey. The footsteps stopped as they eyed the other up and then started to run again. Using the momentum of speed from the older man, Peter leapt into the air and grabbed both sides of the man's face intending to pull him off of the ceiling. Once again luck wasn't on his side as a hand shot out and caught him right where he’d been hit with the baton prior. The hold forced him into an awkward piggyback position, arms crossed and stuck in place. 

In an act of pure survival Peter managed to untangle himself, muscles ripping at the brute force it had taken. He’d not even gathered his footing when an elbow smashed into his cheek and he saw white dots speckled around a blurred surrounding. It was too late to brace for a landing when he realised he was plummeting from the ceiling and the floor was just a second away.

Peter barely had time to blink the bleariness from impact away when he heard the sound of the henchman landing behind him so gracefully it was only audible due to his heightened senses. Before he could look in their direction there was something looping over his head and wrapping tightly around his neck, noose like in grip. The teen attempted to maneuver out of it but was met with two distinct and forceful tugs downwards, the third bringing him to his knees. There was a very sudden and terrifying realisation he instantly couldn’t breathe at all. 

An eruption of sounds assaulted his senses, Karen muttering something about Mr. Stark, and his pulse beating excruciatingly loud. _That’s a plus at least_. He hoped the noise from his neck wasn’t the delicate cartilage in his trachea bending and cracking as desperate, strangled gasps attempted to draw precious air in.

A flurry of panic hit the teen full force when it became abundantly clear that his self defense options were really running incredibly low. This person was clearly well versed in hand to hand combat and dare his mind remind him, assassination. The enhanced strength and targeting of the neck, meant Peter was unable to kick out from his now knelt position. His hands were too busy trying to gain purchase to pry away what he could only describe as some sort of thick wire that was brutally restricting his airway. His head was almost locked into place from the incessant tugging and attempting to fire a web at a target he couldn’t see didn’t seem like it was worth the calculated risk when his nimble fingers were likely providing a miniscule amount of relief from the deadly, unforgiving pressure. Then Peter’s vision was beginning to go hazy and dark around the ages and his head felt like it literally wanted to explode. _Shit._ _Maybe it was worth the risk_. 

Before his aching limb even reached over his shoulder, the restraint was abruptly removed and he unceremoniously fell forward. Despite the disorientation, his hands broke the fall and the young hero ended up on all fours, deep ragged heaves rattling through his throat. With his mind lagging behind in processing the attacker was now long gone, Peter finally managed to wrap his partially numb fingers around the ligature and sloppily yanked it away. Whilst freeing, the movement did induce a painful hacking cough. _Focus on breathing, Peter._

Although he begged and pleaded and cheerleaded himself to just try and inhale and exhale, the teen couldn’t help but still feel constrained and started to fumble with the mask of his suit. The unrelenting, wheezy cough was going to tip him over the edge he was sure of it. Karen’s muttering seemed to be back again and for a moment, it even sounded like Mr. Stark was talking to him. But the suit clinging to his skin only amplified the sense of impending doom and dread before everything went dark and he slumped to the ground.

Usually if Stephen Strange received a notification from the infamous Tony Stark he would ignore it, particularly fond of pretending to be a voicemail and listening to the older man lose his shit. But as they’d grown to mutually understand that behind the banter and snark, there was a brewing friendship and mutual fondness for a certain teenage superhero. It had taken him by surprise when the mechanic had asked if he would allow him to be put down in a very exclusive and minimal list of trusted persons. The doctor of all people had grown to know that underneath the confident façade Tony pulled off, he was indeed a piping hot mess.

As if he were back working as a doctor, most evenings involved his phone being tentatively nearby in case of a call requiring his assistance. His ability to be a quick and effective transportation to a certain forever injured Spiderling had meant he often felt on call between the hours of eleven at night to two in the morning.

So when a phone call came through just after one a.m. with Tony’s face lighting up, Stephen was already up on his feet and the Cloak of Levitation resting on his shoulders.

“Stark," the doctor acknowledged coolly, knowing that even if there was time for pleasantries, it wasn’t really their jam.

“Strange. I need you to get to the Metropolitan Museum of Art,” Tony demanded, a clear edge to his tone. He could already hear the fizzling of the portal being created on the other end at the words. “Peter’s in there. He was fighting someone off. I tried to connect to him but he… He was...”

“On it," the sorcerer affirmed, only taking a minute or so to continue. “I’ve found him. Peter, can you hear me?” Stephen urged as he eyed the kid’s crumpled body currently starfished out in a prone position and immediately hearing the distinct sound of erratic and uneven breathing. 

“Doctor,” Peter winced hoarsely, technically not answering the question. “Can’t breathe.”

Stephen wasted no time in creating a second portal that led straight into a Stark Tower medbay room he knew was left empty purely for this exact situation. 

“Karen?” was all he needed to say as he scooped Peter from off of the floor, one arm tucked under the knees and the other supporting his back so the kid was pulled in close to him. If there were any broken bones or injuries rendering movement too dangerous he would have already been provided this information.

“Peter has experienced asphyxiation to the point of borderline unconsciousness and is showing signs of hypoperfusion.” Efficient as ever the AI had finished relaying the information. 

The portal behind Stephen was closed as he lay the young hero on the medical bay bed and removed the mask with both precision and care. Peter let out a raspy whimper as the material glided off and revealed the pale, grey hue of his face. There was a sheen to it indicative of diaphoresis. Petechial areas were noticeable as well as a blue tinge around the eyes and lips. But the most vivid observations were the stark, bright red of the teen’s left eye where he’d suffered subconjunctival hemorrhaging and the angry ligature marks already leaving their mark around his neck. The doctor had to tuck away the unbridled anger he felt at seeing them in the flesh. There was no doubt he’d be requesting to be a part of the takedown team however when he received a full debrief on what the Spiderling was up to on this unfortunate night.

“Can you hear me, Peter?” he asked patiently. In his peripheral he spotted Peter tilt his hand back and forth in response.

With the suit and web shooters preventing him from getting to the radial artery, the sorcerer apologetically checked the carotid pulses bilaterally. It didn’t take long to note they were thready and tachycardic. He was away from the bedside for just a moment to grab a rebreather mask before sliding a hand under the teen’s head and lifting him ever so slightly so it could be put on. Once in place, Peter let out a meek, croaky sob that had his eyes slamming closed at the pain it caused his throat.

“You’re going to be okay, Peter," Stephen assured as he cupped the kid’s forehead and allowed his thumb to tenderly brush the hairline. The touch earned him the softest smile which he reciprocated, hoping that was also a sign Peter's hearing was improving. “I’m right here. But I need to monitor your vitals. I’m going to remove the upper half of your suit. I’m sure Tony and the medical staff will be here soon, too.” 

The doctor could tell from the teen’s flickering eye movements that he was likely experiencing double vision at a minimum as he seemed to look directly at the sorcerer but then off to the side ever so slightly. There was a small, timid nod which he took to be acknowledgement as the huge gulps of air previously being taken started to slow and decrease in intensity. With a tap of the spider emblem on Peter’s chest, the suit went lax. 

“Cloakie,” Stephen gestured, absentmindedly using the nickname Peter had given it. Requiring no further instruction, the trusty relic removed itself from the doctor’s shoulders and lay across the young hero. 

The pair then worked in sync so that Stephen could systematically place the necessary monitoring equipment, whilst the Cloak of Levitation kept him warm. The doctor started with a three lead ECG. His eyes zeroed in on the monitor, watching the peaks and dips of the heart’s electrical activity as he cautiously slipped the teen’s dominant arm out of the suit to place a blood pressure cuff on. Realising it had likely panicked Peter more so that he'd started working quietly during the initial checks, Stephen now ensured his every movement had a verbal explanation. 

Thankfully a bustling team of medical personnel entered the room when the next course of action was the placement of an IV. It had remained one of the vital medical procedures his nerve damaged hands would now always find impossible. He ran through the information provided by Karen, his own observations, the treatment he had started as well as ordering someone to grab blankets and implement the breathing monitor.

Peter had felt the familiar pinch of the cannula, the sharpness acting like a mental click of the fingers as he strained to focus on the room. The barking of orders became clearer as the lucid haze he’d been in started to resolve and his hearing started to return. 

“Stephen,” he rasped, barely audible. Someone took his hand and he went to clasp onto it, but they moved once the gentle pressure of a pulse oximeter was attached to his middle finger. He shifted uncomfortably, a wave of distress washing over him when he couldn’t quite make out the older man amongst the flurry of people. Wanting to avoid a sensory overload from the input he slammed his eyes shut before attempting to call out again. “Stephen… Tony…”

“I’m here, kid. And Tony will be here any moment," the doctor promised, taking the smaller hand in his own. Peter gripped back ever so slightly, knowing instantly from the rough scars and tremor who it was. As if on cue his frantic voice could be heard from down the hallway.

“Where’s my kid?! Let me through! Oh my God, Peter… What happened?”

Stephen’s hand relinquished it’s grip and he took a step back so Tony could get to Peter’s side. The doctor nodded at the others as a gesture to dismiss them now that the small tasks he couldn’t complete alone were done. That and he was happy to continue the monitoring himself.

“He’s not going to be able to talk at the moment. Karen informed me he’d been asphyxiated. We had to stop him from going into shock. If his vitals continue their current drastic improvement, I imagine he could recuperate in his own room soon," Stephen provided, instantly perking Peter’s interest before he looked back to Tony.

“Bea?” Peter whispered, a hand rubbing on his throat at the discomfort of talking.

“She’s here and she’s safe. Managed to provide me with a few details whilst I waited for you to get here. My main priority right now though is you.”

“May…”

“I’ll let her know you’re here, kiddo. Will let the school know you’ll likely be off for a day or two. Don’t worry about anything but resting. We’ve got it all covered.”

“Some… Some…” Peter tried but ended up falling into a fit of agonising, hacking coughs.

“If you think about what you want to say Peter, I can relay the message for you," Stephen offered once the coughing had settled. The teen nodded, just a hint of a smile visible from under the mask. 

“There are still some bad guys webbed up in the museum that are on the NYPD’s wanted list for the case,” Stephen started after a moment. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. call the cops. And let them know Spider-Man sends his kindest regards.”

“One of the henchmen got away,” Stephen paused for a moment, a glare suddenly on his face as if trying to work out if he was reading Peter’s thoughts right. “Erm. _Rip-off-Spidey_ was his name. He had enhanced strength and could climb walls.” There was another pause, Peter now attempting a full grin. “Jokes on him. He doesn’t have webs though.”

Even Tony snorted at hearing the words come out of the sorcerers mouth, the air in the room becoming less dense as everything started to resolve.

As promised, within the hour, Stephen had Peter back in his room. He insisted on continuing to monitor Peter’s condition when necessary but was happy with the provision that Tony would be with him. Sticking around meant he’d also found himself taking care of the guest now at the tower. Not that he minded at all. With the Sanctum Sanctorum looking a bit like it’s own museum, he found Bea's knowledge so fascinating he’d opened several portals to show off some of the relics in his possession. 

Tali had also made her way to the tower and whilst they reunited Stephen took a step back to carry out one of his final checks on the teen. He lightly tapped on the door to alert them of his presence, opening his mouth to speak upon entering when he was stopped in his tracks. 

Tony was lying on top of the bed sheet, legs crossed and head buried into the pillows at a slight angle. Peter was burrowed into his side, an arm thrown across his mentor’s chest. They both were sporting similar half open mouths and breathing in unison, Peter’s breathing slightly husky causing a snore. With a smirk on his face, Stephen chose to leave the room, deciding the checkup was no longer needed.

The following morning, Peter woke up to the smell of pancakes and faint voices coming from down the hallway. Still feeling a little rough from his late night museum outing, he opted for loose jogging bottoms and a plain t-shirt. With his stomach growling, he trudged out of the room and slowly made his way to the shared living area. 

“Morning kiddo,” Tony greeted, as he slid the plate across the table to where Peter was taking his seat. 

“Morning, Mr. Stark," Peter said in a hushed tone, tucking into the food and immediately humming at how good it tasted. "These are your best ones yet," he continued, mouth slightly full as he used the fork to point at the pancake.

"I'll take the compliment, even if it was delivered with zero regard for manners," Tony teased. “You should be aware that just through that door is a very happy couple. I _deduced_ you’d wake up and forget about them so Fri let me know you were coming. I wanted you to decide if you’d like them to see you as you. Or Spider-man.” Peter swallowed a chunk just a little too quickly at the question, wincing at the pain it caused. Tony was swiftly at his side, rubbing his back when it looked like he was going to choke. 

“I’m good being me,” the teen decided once his breathing was back under control. Tony offered a genuine smile before calling up to the ceiling. A couple of minutes later, Bea and Tali walked out of the room hand in hand. Both had watery eyes and beaming smiles as they approached Peter who was quick to get onto his feet. They embraced him in a heartwarming group hug, Tony’s heart felt like it was about to explode at the expression of gratitude his mentee was receiving, knowing it was likely a rare occurrence.

“Thank you so much, Spider-Man,” Tali said as the trio took a step back from one another.

“You can call me, Peter,” the young hero replied softly. 

“You’ve saved my life, Peter. That comes with an indescribable amount of gratitude that words and actions will likely never fully convey," Bea admitted wholeheartedly. 

“With Bea’s help it turns out we’ve successfully apprehended most of the gang. All that remains are the big boss and our enhanced friend,” Tony interjected. “Fri is hot on their tails as we speak.” 

“That’s- That’s great,” Peter remarked, turning his head when he heard the familiar sound of portal opening.

“Good morning all,” Stephen greeted. “You’re looking well, Peter. Do you mind if I give you the once over when it’s amicable?”

“Hey Mist-Doctor Strange. Sure, sure," Peter agreed, glancing at his mentor for approval.

“You go ahead, kiddo. May as well get it out the way," Tony encouraged. 

With a skip in his step, Peter followed the sorcerer supreme as they made their way into the elevator and down to the medbay. 

"How come you didn't just portal us here?" Peter asked curiously, when the doors opened with a ding.

"I occasionally like to indulge your mentor's ego by using his facilities as intended," Stephen answered, just a little too dryly for Peter to tell if he was being serious. 

"Oh, that's nice," the teen mumbled as they headed into an unoccupied room.

"That and one time I portalled into the communal area where Captain Rogers was engaged in certain activities with Sergeant Barnes."

"Ohh… oh." 

The conversation fell silent after that as Peter hopped onto the bed. Whilst Stephen checked the kid's radial pulse, Peter couldn't help but feel like the doctor reminded him of someone. 

"How're you feeling?" Stephen asked once he was satisfied with the BPM and healing of the bruising surrounding the neck.

"Bit sore but overall good." 

"Wanna elaborate on the _bit sore_ part there?"

"Talking, swallowing, generally being alive has it just twinging a little. It's fine though Doctor Strange, really. I don't need anything for it." 

"I'd still recommend taking an anti-inflammatory just to be on the safe side. Other than that you've certainly bounced back once again."

"Irrelevant to the check up but has anyone ever said you look like anyone from the TV before?"

"Nope," the sorcerer replied with a pop of the 'p.' "Shall we head back up?"

"Portal?"

"As you wish."

Back in the living space, Bea and Tali were occupying one sofa whilst Tony was opposite. Choosing to linger, Stephen joined the group as Peter took a seat next to his mentor. It took the teen less than five minutes to reach across to the coffee table and grab a pen whilst the adults chatted amongst themselves. He drew a line across the palm of his hand with a slight curve on one side. There wasn't really a subtle way to complete his experiment so he simply raised his hand to be in line with Stephen's face and immediately snorted.

Digging his phone out from his pocket he then pulled up a photo of Sherlock and positioned it next to the sorcerer's face then lifted the simple mouth on his hand again. Tony was quick to look at what he was doing, barely suppressing his own laughter.

"Uncanny," he said before involuntarily wheezing, causing Peter to laugh so hard he had to clutch his chest in pain. Bea and Tali looked at them, slightly nervously whilst Stephen simply glared at the pair's immaturity. 

"The answer is still no," he voiced coolly. 

Once the duo had settled, the group had gone their separate ways. Stephen had offered Bea and Tali a proper tour of the Sanctum Sanctorum whilst Peter and Tony simply relaxed. 

Actually indulging in self care had almost felt awkward to them both but they couldn't doubt the reprieve felt in doing so. Lunchtime had been and passed and once dinnertime had arrived, Peter had suggested they make something together rather than order in.

"We're a few ingredients short, Underoos," Tony mumbled as he flicked through the recipe for the chicken tostadas.

"I don't mind going out and getting them. Will be nice to stretch my legs after all the lounging about," Peter offered much to his mentor's horror. 

"Are you sure you're cleared for outings?"

"Yeah, Doctor Strange said I just need to take anti-inflammatories which I have. You can call him if you don't believe me."

"No, no. I believe you, buddy. Just be careful alright. Don't push yourself."

"We've been so feng shui today I don't think I know what pushing myself even is anymore," Peter bantered as he made a dash for his shoes and a hoodie before heading for the elevator. 

"Take these kiddo," Tony said as he threw a small box through the air. The teen opened it to find the glasses he'd worn at the museum. "Consider it the coolest looking shopping list you'll ever have the privilege of using."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter beamed as he put them on and headed down to the main lobby before briskly walking to a nearby store.

Once he'd procured all the items, he took a much more leisurely stroll back to the tower. His Spider Sense had tingled several times whilst in the shop, the teen eventually putting it down to the events of the night prior. Just a couple of streets from the tower it went off so unbearably that he found himself spinning on his heel. 

Someone barged into him aggressively, almost knocking the shopping bags from his hands. Before he could call out to them, his body went to turn to the other side. Before he could muster any kind of reaction a needle was being plunged into his neck and the person who's barged into him doubled back to scoop up his legs. 

A car braked harshly beside them as he quickly felt his energy sap away, the shopping being left on the pathway. The teen's attempts to struggle were limited as his body crashed hard under whatever drugs they'd pumped into his system. Before he could manage a tap of the glasses, a fist connected with his face and his world soon turned to darkness. 

“Emergency call, coming through now," F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified before the ringtone was projected into the penthouse. 

“Patch them through.” 

“If it isn’t the infamous Tony Stark. So kind of you to take the call," an intimidating, sarcastic laced voice greeted.

“Who is this? How’d you get this number?” Tony queried, arms crossed against his chest. 

“You have something of interest to us. So we’ve simply returned the favour.” 

“Hate to break it to you but that’s pretty unlikely. I thought it was a well known fact I am pretty self absorbed in just me, myself and I. Last checked I’m right where I want to be," he replied smoothly, followed by a nonchalant sniff.

“Your son would be terribly disappointed to hear that.” Had that comment been thrown at Tony just a couple of years before he probably would’ve laughed in the person’s face before hanging up, but the fact his mind literally thought of Peter immediately had his heart sinking into an abyss, ice running through his veins at an alarming rate. Anxiety rippled across his skin, as he tried to think of a witty response.

“He’s not…”

“That’s not what your security detail thought when he confirmed _your kid is alright_ after dropping him off at a relatives _._ Or when you visited the museum and you got in free for bringing _your child_ . And I’m sure many teenagers have an emergency contact under the nickname, _Irondad_ .” The older man pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, and gripped the nearest piece of furniture with the other. He would be wasting precious time if he even pondered denying their accusation when they were so sure of their _proof_. With a shuddering breath, he darted towards his holodesk and entered instructions for the call to be traced immediately.

“What do you want?”

“You give us Bea and we will give you Peter. Or Spider-Man. Whichever name you prefer to use for your child.”

“Let me speak to Peter," Tony requested, noting that the tracing was slowly zoning into a nearby location.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to be making demands, Mr.. Stark?”

“How can I trust any of this is real if there’s no proof?”

“We thought that might be the case so we’ve sent an assurance for you.”

“Boss, there’s an urgent package at the reception for you,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed promptly. 

“Get it sent up,” Tony requested as he made his way to the lift. Within seconds an assistant from the front desk was handing him a small box.

“We trust you have our assurances now.” Tony had barely had to open the box more than a couple of centimeters when he could see blood red stains smeared across the cardboard. Opening just a little further revealed the pair of glasses Peter had been wearing. 

One of the temples was snapped off and both lenses had been cracked, a slight bend in the left rim. The icy cold feeling that had threatened to submerge him was quickly now a seething fire running rampage. A muffling in the call brought him back to the present as he placed the package down like it was the most precious, delicate object in the universe.

“Where and when?” The older man said, jaw clenched tight with unbridled fury and loathing.

“So glad to have your cooperation. We’ll message them in the next few minutes.” 

“Call traced, boss. But you’re not going to like it,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interjected, noting the hostage takers had cut the phone off to Tony before he’d had a chance to reply. He quickly dashed over to the holodesk. The small pulsing circle was located directly on the Avengers Tower.

“Son of a bitch!” He yelled out in a complete loss of momentary control, wildly combing his fingers through his hair. Exactly three minutes later a location and time were in his inbox. 

“Alright, alright. Fri. I need to make a couple of phone calls.”

Tony immediately spotted three people on the glass roofed ceiling of the Charles Engelhard Court. He managed a quick scan as he landed carefully, placing Bea down and deliberately standing just in front of her. 

Peter stood surprisingly alone, mouth duct taped and breathing laboured. His ankles were bound so tightly his legs looked bowed and uncomfortable, the flesh of wrists rubbed raw and clasped in front of him. The pained expression in his eyes and the way his head continued to sag towards so his chin would fall close to his chest had Tony on edge. A wound on his shoulder, likely from a gunshot had left a trail of blood down his clothes, several drips staining the floor below. F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified him that there were charges underneath the pane of glass Peter was stood on before Tony tapped the housing unit and the suit dissolved. 

“Well this is scenic,” he muttered sarcastically, arms out to the side and pretending to take in the night sky before his eyes met with his mentees, tears threatening to spill from the kid. There was an ever so subtle shift of his foot before he was tutted and reminded of the seventy foot drop below. 

“If either of you try anything, he gets it,” the taller woman snarled, waving a hand up and revealing a detonator. Tony was quick to hold his hands up in the air. There was a hint of panic in his eyes, he was expecting the usual human shield, gun to head hostage situation. This was more like some sort of sadistic trap door bomb scenario that could not only take everyone on the roof out, but also have Peter plummet the seven odd stories down. The fall would be lethal with the vicious bindings on his limbs.

“So how are we doing this?” Tony demanded, not wanting to waste anymore time. Bea clung onto the suit of his jacket clearly terrified. 

“Beatrice will join my associate here. And once we’ve left the rooftop, Peter will be free to move.” 

“Please don’t,” Bea whispered, voice so quiet that it was only just audible over the gentle night's breeze. “Please.” Her begging tortured Peter and he made a noise of protest against the tape, his body flinching as if it was taking all the force in the world to keep him still. 

The movement had the leader letting out a cackle, harsh and bitter without a single ounce of remorse. Tony pried Bea’s fingers from their grip of security and eventually started to push her towards the enemy until she finally accepted her fate. The moment she was close enough she was tugged backwards, an arm wrapped around her neck and the barrel of a gun placed against her head. Tony mouthed he was sorry before his gaze met Peter’s.

“Eyes on me buddy,” he requested pitifully. “You remember the Reichenberg Fall, right?”

Peter barely had time to react to the phase when things started happening around him in a complete blur.

Tony had equipped a gauntlet and fired it at the leader, throwing them across the rooftop. Concurrently with the offense, Bea had stuck a foot behind her attacker and then turned and threw them to the ground with such force the glass cracked beneath them. Peter had dropped straight through a portal created directly under him, immediately landing on the Cloak of Levitation before the portal closed. 

"Come on, kid. Stay with me," a deep almost hypnotic voice that he vaguely recognised urged. “It’s over, we’ve beaten them.” Peter tilted his head curiously at them trying to focus on their face as he felt himself being lowered to the ground. Their words were trailing off as the effects of the blood loss caught up with Peter and before he could stop himself his body started to drift. His world went dark as he felt someone lift him up in a very familiar grip. Strong arms tucked under his knees and supporting his back in a bridal hold. His remaining thoughts lingered on the fact everyone was now safe before allowing sleep to take over.

Glossy eyes slowly started to open, eyebrows scrunched together as he let out a hoarse groan. There was a disconcerting level of aches and pains throughout his body that had him feeling incredibly touch sensitive, almost as if he could feel every individual fiber of the bed. Then there was the assault on his nostrils at the smell, disinfectant and latex so strong even his jumbled up thoughts could conclude he was in the medbay or hospital. Peter caught himself letting out a pained whine that felt like shards of glass were slashing at his throat.

Tony recognised that harsh sounding noise from anywhere, quickly bringing a straw and cup to the drug hazed teen. Peter wanted to gulp it down the moment he felt the plastic touch his lips, swigging greedily as the water soothed his parched throat and mouth. 

"How are you feeling, buddy?" Tony asked once he finished drinking, 

"High," Peter confessed after assessing himself. "A little sore."

"If you need more painkillers, just let me know and I’ll get Cho."

“Is this what it's like to be tripping on balls, because I’m not going to lie... I never thought it would happen with my metabolism. I’m pretty sure I’m floating. Holy sh-” He cut himself off, lifting his good arm in the air and slowly flapping it up and down. “Woah, woah… woo.” 

A genuine laugh escaped Tony’s lips at how adorable his kid was. Despite the fun he was quick to carefully place his hands over Peter’s forearm and maneuver it back down when he saw the tug of wires.

“Steady on there, Underoos. These wires are feeding you the good stuff and you tug too hard and you’ll lose that high feeling. Why don’t you do me a favour and get some rest? You never know if you close your eyes you might see the galaxy.”

“But… I’m enjoying seeing you,” Peter gasped, and Tony suddenly felt his chest constrict, heart strings pulling tightly. The pure innocence emanating from his strong-willed and impulsive kid just reminded him of just how young he was. Just a teenager who felt responsible for the whole world around him. A teenager who instead of playing sports and going out with friends was a superhero with the resilience and determination to protect people at all costs. 

“I’ll be right here when you wake up," Tony promised. Peter simply stared at him with his huge bug like eyes as if the answer simply wasn’t satisfactory. 

"Oh shi- I think I’m going to throw up," he mumbled suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere. Tony already had the trash can in hand when he’d heard the first two words. This wasn’t his first rodeo of a post operation Peter vomiting everywhere. He had instinctively called the doctor’s buzzer as he was nervous at the prospect of what damage the heaving could do to his recovering body. 

Dr. Strange was quick to enter, a look of concern etched on his features as Tony barely regarded him. He was too busy focusing on one hand rubbing circles into Peter’s back whilst the other clung onto the can. The mechanic whispered assurances to the stricken teen, now comfortable enough for Stephen to see how tender he could be towards the boy. 

"I’ll speak to Cho about some anti-nausea medication. I know she had some on standby as this is a frequent occurrence," Stephen confirmed, the sound of Cho shrieking filling the room as he created a portal directly into her office there and then. Even Peter let out a little gasped chuckle between being sick at the action. She was on her feet at the sight, heading towards a cupboard before entering the room and administering the drugs directly into the teen’s IV. 

"That should start working in a few minutes, Peter," she reassured smoothly before narrowing her eyes at the Sorcerer Supreme. Within a couple of minutes he did indeed feel a lot better, but with it came to the familiar tug of drowsiness. Both doctor’s excused themselves once Peter was comfortable again, Strange taking the trash can with him to dispose of.

“How did you do it?” Peter queried curiously when he felt more comfortable. 

“Well. When I was informed you’d been taken hostage, the only demand was handing over Bea. By that point I already had a lot of information from her about the gang, had set the motions with Agent Hill and the NYPD. Nat and Bea have a similar physique so our second favourite spider themed Avenger joined me on the rooftop wearing a Photostatic Veil. Bea told us the likely predicament you’d be in, plus a few other suggestions so I prepared for all of them. The quickest solution to get you way from the many contraptions they would’ve created was from the good doctor yoinking you out with a portal.”

“So Bea is…”

“No longer in fear of any of those cronies. And they’ve all been taken care of. I’ve told Bea and Tali they can drop by when you’re feeling better.”

"Sorry I got caught," Peter slurred hesitantly, "I understand if you want to lecture me to be more careful. Not… like I can escape."

Tony slowly raised one eyebrow, looking at Peter as if almost offended. The comment seemed to have come out of nowhere and his mentor had to physically think to work out what the teen was even referring to. Not wanting to admit he was oblivious, _because the apology better not be about scaring him,_ Tony partially deflected.

"I’m sure your Aunt will be doing that for the both of us."

“Seeing as everyone now thinks you’re my dad. Can I have a hug?” Peter asked sheepishly, cheeks burning at the request. Tony was all too happy to oblige, perching on the bedside. Peter lunged forward, hands wrapping tightly around the older man’s neck.

“Thank you for saving me. I love you, Mr.. Stark," the teen admitted as he buried his face against the older man’s chest and instantly calmed at the sound of his heartbeat.

"I love you too, Peter," Tony reciprocated as one hand lovingly cupped the back of his mentees head holding him close. The other enveloped around his back, his thumb slowly stroking up and down. When Tony's hand started to trail through Peter's hair, the boy somehow managed to burrow even closer, face pushed into the crook of his mentor's shoulder. The older man soothingly lifted curls between his fingers and then let them ping back. 

"Be a shame if I crashed before May got here. Right?" Peter mumbled as he gave into the pull of his heavy eyelids. 

"Sure would, kiddo," Tony murmured as he tucked the sheets delicately, a hand lingering on the sheet on top of Peter’s arm. A part of him relishing the touch. Another part too afraid to ever let go again.

**Author's Note:**

> This event was an absolute blast and I loved every minute of it. Having said that I am VERY aware that a lot of parts had to be rushed towards the end and I will absolutely be going over this fic in the next couple of weeks to add some more details to some of the more crucial scenes. 
> 
> As always, this was very self indulgent and based off of one of my favourite Sherlock Episodes (Season 1, Episode 2: The Blind Banker).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


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